About Me

I feel the wanderlust and the call of the open highway. Which is good, because I drive cars for a living. But I'm a writer, and someday hope to once again make my living using my writing skills.

Tuesday, September 3, 2013


Yesterday I was in a diner in upstate New York, not too far from Rochester.  I was taking a break from the road, sitting at the counter enjoying a diet Dr. Pepper and slice of apple pie.  The waitress offered me a slice of cheddar cheese on the pie, which I had never heard of.  Had many scoops of ice cream on pie over the years, but never cheese.  I tried it and found out I enjoyed it very much.

A hefty, rugged-looking man came and plopped down at the counter two seats from me.  He turned to me as if we already in the middle of a conversation and asked,  "Think we're gonna?"

"Excuse me?" I asked.

"Think we're gonna?"

"Think we're gonna what?"

He looked at me as if I were dense. "You think we're gonna go?"

"Think we're gonna go where?"

"To Syria, to bomb the hell out of those bastards?"

"Uh, well I really don't know."  I knew to tread carefully, politics could be an explosive discussion topic.

"You know that Obama the Messiah wants us to go," he said with a sneer.

"Does he?"

"Oh come on, now you know he does.  But consider this:  Why does Obama insist on moving forward with this punishing strike against Syria?"

"I'm really not sure."

"And you're not the only one!" he exclaimed.  "Best case scenario,  we slap the Syrians down a few pegs for using chemical weapons, they learn their lesson and go on killing their political rivals with conventional weaponry instead."  He turned and called out to the waitress.  "Hey Maggie, how about a cup of coffee over here."

"The pie is good," I offered, trying to possibly change the subject.

"The pie is always good, but I bet they aren't enjoying pie over in Syria.  Don't forget the other side of the coin."

"Which is?"

"The worst case scenario.  That would be that we try to strike Syria only to encounter Russian military defending them."  Maggie brought him the coffee and set it in front of him without saying a word.  She seemed to be having a bad day and turned on her heel.  "And in the meanwhile Iran makes good on it's threat of retaliation against our ally Israel, emboldening other radical Muslim nations to join in.  And so with the purge of Jews in Israel and the middle east and attacks against any and all us embassies and military bases..."  He stopped and shook his head, then went silent.

Maggie came back quickly and pointed at me.  "You need anything else?"

"No thanks," I replied.

She turned to the man who had been speaking to me, and the tone of her voice suggested tension between them.  "You want pie, Jesse?"

He fumed.  "No I do not want pie!  I want democracy."  She threw her hands into the air and walked away.  
"The USA and France will just be standing there like two kids caught with their hand in the cookie jar until other nations, outraged by the destruction in Israel join in and we start World War 3."

"I really do hope not," was all I could think to say.

"Of course you hope not.  We all hope not.  But hope has nothing to do with this.  The other countries around the world do not support what we are planning, or I should say, what Obama is planning.  And now he is hiding behind Congress, saying that they have to authorize."

"Are you sure about that?"

He laughed.  "Am I sure?  Yes, I am very sure."  His cell phone rang, playing the Battle Hymn of the Republic.  "This is Jesse.  What?  Yep, I can be right over."  He hung up and gulped down the entire cup of hot coffee.  "Listen partner, I got to run.  Can you take care of this coffee for me?  Thanks a bunch!"  He ran out of the diner before I could answer.  But I guess I can afford a cup of coffee for a fellow American.  

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